


Bless Me Father

by armitageadoration



Category: Catholic - Fandom, Priest - Fandom, Priests - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 19:51:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armitageadoration/pseuds/armitageadoration
Summary: James Long is a writer. His books, articles, even seminars are fairly famous.  If you have a story, there is a good chance he will write it. There is even a better chance he will write it if you are a member of clergy.James doesn't want the stories of priests that are good people. James doesn't want the stories of priests that turned out to be bad people.He wants the one where you have left one god for a another.





	Bless Me Father

There was something about a man collecting stories from priests that made people skittish. Perhaps it was because in those moments they realized that priests were just human as everyone else. Some did very good work. Some did horrible deeds. The collector didn’t care about those men, they were too average. He wanted the ones that lost their faith. He wanted the ones that found a new god to pray to.

There was three days worth of stubble on the man’s face. The white clerical collar of a Catholic priest was stained with sweat. It was easily in the 90s already that morning. Jim knew at first sight. This was the man. The priest was chain smoking one cigarette after another that summer day. His blue eyes were red from too much whiskey.

“James Long.” He offered a hand to the priest.

“Father Sean O’Conner. A pleasure.”

“You have a story for me Father?”

“Yes.”

_The strike of heels echoed through the seemingly empty church. It was almost like a calling card for her._

_When she walked in, you watched her closely. There was something about her that screamed Trouble, even now. This woman looked like she would be more at home in an Old Hollywood movie and not in a random Cathedral somewhere in New Orleans. _

_Those stiletto heels that buckled around her ankle. You heard the strike yes? It sounds like your heart beating in your chest doesn’t it? Fast. Slow. Fast. Fast. _

_Stop._

_You lick your overly dry lips while remembering something. _

_If you ever see a woman like this? Don’t approach her, just watch. The shadows seem to know her. And I mean **know **her. This ain’t some sort of magical shit. No, she is as human as you or I. _

_But she knows things you have yet to learn._

_You would wait. You would wait for days on end. Sometimes she was there and sometimes she wasn’t You were as far as you could possibly be from this woman and be in the same room. Even then, you caught the scent of her perfume. Her scent was like a storm. No, it was like lightening about to strike. _

_If you ever met her, you would know her at once. _

_Her hair was as dark as her heart. Assuming she ever had a heart. Blood red lips were ripe and full. You imagined them just like that didn’t you? You knew what you wanted to do. You thought you could do it and no one would be the wiser eh?_

_I thought the same thing. God knows. God **always** knows. _

_Dressed in black, she spun around. She knew someone or someTHING was watching her. You could tell that she wasn’t frightened. No, this woman was intrigued. _

_The small pillbox hat she wore, the veil hid her eyes. You knew that you didn’t want to see her eyes. Those eyes would pierce your heart and you would declare your undying love for her while you indeed died by her hand._

_The minute she stepped into the confessional, you knew what you had to do. You followed her._

_ “Welcome my child.”_

_ “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” Her words were barely a whisper. _

_ “When was your last confession?” _

_"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was a 7 days ago. Father, I fell in love. I fell in love with a man I was not permitted to love.”_

_ “Have you renounced this man?”_

_ “No Father.”_

_ “Are you repentant in your love?”_

_“No. I have worshiped him as I would God. I have bathed his feet by my own hand. I love this man Father. I have been down on my knees before him.” Her voice was soft like rose petals but there was that desire in it that made any listener Burn. _

_“Are you a good Catholic?”_

_“Only in the bedroom Father. That’s where I usually call out his name.”_

_O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life.”_

_I pulled the heavy velvet cloth aside. Her lips were red and her eyes were dark. That red looked more like blood than even blood itself. She had nothing but a half smile for me on those blood red lips. I couldn’t help it. I stared. _

_Her impossibly long legs were spread. The black bands of silk stockings framed her sex. Maybe it was the booze. I wasn’t quite drunk as the weight of the world came across my back. I was no better than a beast in those moments. I took her there in the confessional. I sodomized her as she cried out for God himself. _

_God wasn’t in there._

_It was just me and her. _

_In those moments I was weak but still I was her God. _

_Every Friday evening I hear the strike of her heels. She comes to confession. Always in black. Always with red lips. Yet, it is I who needs to confess later. _


End file.
